Acorn, made of a grocery paper bag
(& "Mommy" written right to left--"in Chinese," he said)
(& "Mommy" written right to left--"in Chinese," he said)
I said it last week, but this time I'm not making it up, even by Bulgarian or East-Coast or Montana standards: fall is here.
We got our first real rain, and we carved our pumpkin; I have yet to take a picture of it, but it is "scary," just as Sava requested.
We already attended a Halloween party, where Sava acquired his first temporary tattoos ever, decorated cookies, and danced to scary music--all things which his parents are too creatively disabled to organize for him.
*****
Before the weather turned wet, we sneaked a couple of good afternoons in the great outdoors--
Raya loves to watch other people--
--and she pitches hilarious fits, with adorable pouts, whenever Rado or I try to hand her over to grandma for a few minutes; separation anxiety is ruling her life at present--
Note above-referenced pout on second picture
It is joyous to watch Sava gaining control of his body in ways that seemed inconceivable even only a year ago--
He is still plenty timid, and has non-negotiable thresholds for everything he is willing to try, but the change from the kid who used to watch from the sidelines and refused to go down slides is unmistakable.
*****
Speaking of changes, what can I say about the girl, except that she continually amazes us...Before Raya was born, whenever friends used to tell me of their second or third kids' milestones and achievements, I used to wonder, ungenerously, whether it was really that exciting for them...still. How many times can you hear a "first" word and be amazed? How many times can you pause in wonder as you watch a toddling creature take its first uncertain steps? How many times can you melt at the first mention of "mama" or "tati"? Well...apparently more than once.
With Sava, the thrill was to witness everything for the "first" time, and we greeted each milestone by anticipating what's coming next. With Raya, there is the added element of this probably being our "last first," which makes us relish the present rather than anticipate the future; unless life somehow decides to contradict us, Raya's will be the last first word we will hear a child of ours utter; hers will be the last first steps a child of ours takes; and we will, for the last first time, celebrate things like seeing her wave good-bye, climb the stairs by herself, or put all clothes back in the dryer after they have been taken out and folded. There is a lot of bitter sweetness in everything she does.
With Sava, the thrill was to witness everything for the "first" time, and we greeted each milestone by anticipating what's coming next. With Raya, there is the added element of this probably being our "last first," which makes us relish the present rather than anticipate the future; unless life somehow decides to contradict us, Raya's will be the last first word we will hear a child of ours utter; hers will be the last first steps a child of ours takes; and we will, for the last first time, celebrate things like seeing her wave good-bye, climb the stairs by herself, or put all clothes back in the dryer after they have been taken out and folded. There is a lot of bitter sweetness in everything she does.
Raya loves to talk. She is rarely silent, and she imitates sounds and words with an eagerness I honestly don't remember from Sava. As with everything else, he bided his time during the first half of the second year--watching, listening, absorbing--and then exploded with language in a way that we never could have anticipated; he takes after his dad in how he learns. Raya, so far at least, is more my kind of girl: she will try anything, bungle it, try it again, bungle it again, and keep repeating until she gets it right. She unmistakably names "tati" and "mama," and especially loves to call "batko" (or "bati") across the room, which is the Bulgarian word for "big brother," aka Sava. She will ask for a "cracker," and names other things, like "paka" for "topka" (ball), "bapa" for "baba" (grandma), "pate" for duck, and various random others which we have heard only once or twice. When I washed her face with a cotton ball the other day, she insisted on getting the cotton ball after I was done, and then proceeded to "wash" herself, with the proudest look of satisfaction. She loves to wear bracelets and necklaces (from the random collection her brother owns), and walks almost flawlessly holding with one hand to someone else; she has yet to let go and do it on her own, but I have a feeling that the day is not too far when she walks off into the sunset.
If I had to define her in three words, they would be: full of spunk.
And since this post has, unwittingly, turned out to be very Raya-centric, next week I will try to focus on Sava. Mother guilt is such a witch.
Happy Fall, y'all.
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